


Double-Dead

by rollerskating_salmon_that_fell



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Human Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Human Husk (Hazbin Hotel), Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Minor Character Death, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:34:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27764560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rollerskating_salmon_that_fell/pseuds/rollerskating_salmon_that_fell
Summary: "Where exactly do I go? To double Hell?"Not quite, Angel. And Alastor would know. But it's not exactly like he could tell anyone anymore.Alastor dies and finds out where exactly you do go. But where is that? What happens?
Relationships: Alastor & Husk (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor/Husk (Hazbin Hotel)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 27





	Double-Dead

**Author's Note:**

> EEEEEEEEEEEEK!  
> This is gonna be my very first long work!!! AAAAAAAA!!!  
> I hope you don't find it rubbish, and i also hope it's not too short.  
> Sorry if it is. /:

Alastor opened his eyes. Where was he? What had actually happened? One moment he was-  
Oh.  
He had lost.  
He sat up and looked around. He seemed to be in a forest of some sort. Standing up, he saw a deer watching him. It seemed almost guilty looking. Why?  
A flash of static and wavering of the atmosphere had told him all he needed to know: his shadows. There they went, walking slowly, deeper into the forest. So this must be what happens when you die in hell. A chuckle escaped Alastor’s lips as he realised that it was a bit like one of the games Angel had been talking about- how you respawn at the place you died. That surely did give a whole new meaning to “God playing games with the universe” didn’t it?  
He decided that his home town wouldn’t be too far away, following the path he knew by heart. He had missed Earth- well, New Orleans, which was the only bit he’d ever seen- and wanted to see it again. It would be a nice change from the monotonous reds of hell. Yes, even he, the Radio Demon, widely known for his striking red appearance, found it just a little monotonous. He had missed the blue skies, the green grass and the animals without fire-breath and spikes.  
Except, when he finally made it back to his home town, he didn’t like it at all. It had changed far too much. The cars were no longer what they used to be, everyone wore stupid outfits and it looked like hell had been starting to look. He didn’t want to stay here, seeing his home so different to what it used to be. He knew some towns nearby, and started his slow, not-so-merry way towards one of them.  
As he walked, he noticed people staring at him. He looked down at himself to check that he hadn’t kept his hellform, and he hadn’t- thank goodness. Instead, he looked the same as he did just before he died- dark brown hair; red-tinted, oval-shaped glasses; and a shredded brown suit. Wonderful. He didn’t have any money to buy new clothes either. Well, it was ok- he could just ask Niffty to- ah, yes, no more Niffty. No more Niffty, no more Husk, no more Rosie, or Mimzy or even the lovely ladies in the colony. He would never see them again.  
Only was it when Alastor stopped to take a deep shaky breath did he notice that he had veered off into an alleyway. He thought that he might as well stay here, as the Sun was setting and he was fairly tired. He wasn’t sure if he was mentally or physically exhausted, but he did know that he should probably find a hidden yet comfortable place to rest- well, as comfortable as one could get in an alleyway between a charity shop and a chippy.  
Hang on- a charity shop?  
Looking in through the window, he could make out a clothing rack or two. Brilliant! An antique shop also guaranteed clothes that he didn’t find utterly atrocious but also things that wouldn’t get him stared at: it would be best to look as inconspicuous as possible. He rushed back to the corner he had found and started drawing up a plan in the gravel. He may have only been a serial killer but that doesn’t mean that he didn’t know how to perform a basic burglary. That night, Alastor stole a handful of reasonable-looking clothes and had even managed to find a little bag to hold it all in. All in all, he thought he did quite well.

Thought.

Roaming around in his new clothes was a breeze: eyes just slid right off him. Hmm, he would need a job- a job that paid but needed no qualifications. He could think of one and he was definitely not going to do that. His darling Husker was always so good at coming up with these kinds of ideas. Oh, how Alastor wished he could still be with him. Then it struck him: a bartender. No qualifications required and could hopefully give him a somewhat decent accommodation. Thank you Husker!  
Alastor had been walking for almost a day when the road he had been travelling along led to a small town. The sun was setting by the time he had arrived in front of a pub that provided accommodation. It seemed like the only one for miles around and he didn’t want to run the risk of sleeping in more alleyways than he needed to.  
On his way in, he saw a poster on the door, asking for new employees. It looked tattered and old but he couldn’t let that get his hopes down. There could still be a chance that they still needed a bartender. Wow, he sounded like Charlie.  
Upon entry, he saw a bartender already serving drinks to a few people. There goes that offer. Ah well- there was always another thing he could do. His smile grew wicked as he sat in the corner to conjure a plan. His mind raced around, the plans inside his head squiggling and dancing around like flamingos on roller-skates. He hardly noticed the man towering over him he was so engrossed in his scheming; only was it when the man shook his shoulder did his eyes snap open so fast that it would have given them whiplash.  
It took Alastor a while to realise that the place was closed and the bartender was asking him to leave. He must have been sat here for hours! Slowly, Alastor nodded and made to get up. As he did so, he didn’t miss the fact that they were both alone. Perfect. Even better, the other man was leaving too, meaning that the floors in here wouldn’t get dirty and he wouldn’t have to drag the man’s body out of the pub. In the mean time, Alastor just had to come off as friendly as possible.  
As they walked out of the pub into the rain, they chatted about some random nonsense that Alastor honestly couldn’t care less for. The man did seem nice and it was a shame, but Alastor didn’t mind, he already knew what happened after death. He was also feeling a little peckish now.  
Alastor clocked a decent alleyway up ahead, far enough to prepare himself, but close enough that he didn’t come off as creepy. He was going to murder this man, but we couldn’t have him run away or become suspicious now could we? The man was mid-sentence when he was abruptly slammed into a wall. He cried out in pain but was muffled by a hand over his mouth. A pointy elbow was pushed into his neck, causing the windpipe to crush like a fortune cookie with a delightful crack. Slowly, the limp body was dragged down the dark alley. It smelled like old sewage and the rain didn’t help that. Although, the smell was so strong you wouldn’t be able to smell what Alastor did next.  
After finding a broken biro on the floor, Alastor shredded through the skin over the stomach with a squelching, liquidy sound. As it turns out, he may have gotten a little carried away: a quite audible scritch-scratch of plastic on bone could be heard, vibrating through anyone’s body like a fork on a plate. Luckily, this was also masked by the now quite heavy rain. Alastor stopped and opened his mouth to the sky to drink his first drink since arriving back on Earth. Not catching enough (in the annoying way rain seems to always miss your open mouth but never your squinting eyes), Alastor decided to settle for the metallic and wonderful taste of blood.  
Alastor plunged his free hand into the great, gaping hole he had made in what was the man’s intestinal area and ripped out a kidney. So forceful was this act that blood and grisel splattered onto the wall behind him. Alastor looked at the blood on the wall in devilish delight, then proceeded to chomp down o n the kidney. Blood ran down his chin, faster than it would have done without the help of the rain. After opening his eyes- apparently he’d closed them at some point- he noticed the blood now staining his clothes. Ah, well, he had more. Alastor spent the night guzzling down the body and taking a few bits for later- this included the heart. After that, he hid the body in an open rubbish bag that had leaked its contents into the bottom of the bin. He shoved the remains of the body into the bag, rather haphazardly due to the rain, tied it up and replaced it at the bottom of the bin again.  
Bodily remains sufficiently disposed of, Alastor hid behind a hunkload of rubbish, bins and other inanimate entities of the alleyway and discreetly changed out of the clothes that were soaked in both water and blood. Then, he made sure to move to a different alleyway before he fell fast asleep.


End file.
